


Red Satin and Wine Glasses

by AikoKanzaki



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29020176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AikoKanzaki/pseuds/AikoKanzaki
Summary: Mark is invited to the Kim's annual extravagant Halloween party, but a beautiful voice takes his attention completely.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Mark Lee
Kudos: 18





	Red Satin and Wine Glasses

**Author's Note:**

> So for a while, I had a complete obsession with imagining Doyoung in a red short satin dressing gown, and I just had to get it out of my system. So this fic appeared out of it!
> 
> Quick reference: The Dreamies, excluding Mark, are all first year university kids (Jisung is a smart boy and could skip years okay!), and all other NCT members are 2nd years.
> 
> It's vampires so Trigger Warning for Blood. But it's not gory.
> 
> *
> 
> (#20 in my NaNoWriMo Challenge 2020) < None of them are related. You can read them in any order. They're all NCT centric.

It was the party everyone was anticipating: the annual Halloween party that was always held by the Kims. The Kims were very well off, exceedingly well off in fact, and constantly one-upped their Halloween party every year. Anything to please their friends, their son and their son’s friends. This year was the biggest and most extravagant one yet. The theme this time was classic and royalty. People turned up in kimonos, hanbok, hanfu, gowns, and suits. As usual, waiters and staff were ready at the entrance to take their coasts and bags. The Dream Team (as they called themselves) walked up the house’s driveway in excitement for their first Kim Party. They had been invited by Mark’s friend Jungwoo.

“Just be calm, okay? It’s not a big deal,” Mark rolled his eyes as he saw how jittery they were.   
“How do you expect us to be calm when this place is massive?!” exclaimed Jaemin as he fixed his bowtie.   
“Don’t judge people by their money,” nudged Jeno, who was clearly nervous by the way his hands were clutching his hanbok.   
“But, you gotta admit, this is way above normal rich,” Hyuck thrust his hands towards the giant house that was all lit up; the lights glistened out into the night.   
“Maybe you should marry into the money?” suggested Renjun, who was too busy fixing his hair clip while using his phone as a mirror.   
“No way Hyuck would leave you for money,” chuckled Chenle, who had turned up as fairy winged ~~red~~ pink riding hood, regardless of the strict dress code they had been told about.   
“Are you sure it’s okay for us to come here?” Jisung chewed his lip nervously.   
“Jisung! You’ll ruin your make up!” Renjun began fussing with Jisung’s face.   
“Guys! Can we not?! I wasn’t nervous but now you’re all making me!” Mark was definitely getting stressed.   
“Didn’t you come last year?” Hyuck raised an eyebrow.   
“Yes…”   
“So what's different?”   
“I have my embarrassing friends with me this year,”   
“You should feel honoured,” poked Chenle.   
“I’m sure it’ll be fine, You know we can act mature,” Hyuck slung his arm around Mark as they walked up the steps to the entrance.   
“Emphasis on the word 'act',” Renjun handed his coat over to the doorman. Mark tugged his navy tailcoat suit and smoothed it out.

The Kims really had gone even more out this year. They’d somehow found and hung a glass chandelier in the middle of the entrance way. The boys took their time walking around the house. According to Jungwoo, nothing was off limits, every room and space in the house had been elaborately decorated to match the theme, and all guests were welcome to the house as if it was their own (within appropriate manners of course). The gang soon split up, and found other familiar faces from university (Lucas, YangYang, Jaehyun to name a few) to mingle with. 

A few drinks in and Mark found himself in the dining area near the fireplace. He was comfortable swinging against the mantlepiece, enjoying the view of people laughing and chatting. But then a distinct singing voice ascended into the air and into Mark’s ears. It was a soft, sweet voice. The prettiest he had ever heard. He looked around the room, but couldn’t see where the voice was coming from. No one was obviously singing. Mark pricked his ears up and started to follow the melody. The voice led him out of the dining room and up the spiral staircase where the wall was littered in candles. On the second floor, there were few people speaking in hushed whispers. Mark took little notice of who the people were once he confirmed they weren’t the ones singing. He made it to the far end of the corridor and into a room on his right. It was a huge room; four poster bed, dark wooden furniture. But no one occupied it. The singing voice carried on; they weren’t in this room. Mark entered a small door at the other end of the room, which led down an even deeper, narrower staircase with one singular dim light. 

The voice was now beginning to get clearer and louder. The bottom of the stairs revealed another narrow corridor, just as dim as the staircase itself. At the end, there was a wooden trap door. Opening it up, Mark saw another set of spiral stairs; this time slightly dusty and cob-webbed but better lit with candles than where he currently was.  _ Must be part of the aesthetic.  _ Mark followed it. The bottom finally opened up to a wide room made of stone. Candles were spread around the room, slightly illuminating the area. In the center, sat the owner of the voice. Mark’s breath got caught in his throat. He hadn’t expected to come face to face with someone so suddenly, let alone the singer who had sung the sweetest melody. He also didn’t expect the singer to look so… ravishing. He was sat on a dark wooden throne, one leg swung over an arm handle. An arm resting on the other. Mark’s eyes widened once he realised the person’s attire. His legs were completely bare; no shoes, no socks, no pants. Even his chest was partially on display as the only thing covering him was a short, satin red dressing gown with a gold tie. The man, Mark realised, had a slight smirk on his face and a glass of red wine in his hand.

“I see you finally joined me,” the man spoke.   
“It was you singing?”   
“It was.”   
“How did I hear you from upstairs?”   
“There are vents throughout the house, voices travel easily,”   
Mark didn’t say it but he took note of how no voices from upstairs were seeping into this room. It was completely silent besides their own voices.   
“You have a beautiful voice.”   
“Why thank you.”   
“What were you singing? I’ve never heard it before.”   
“An old song… fits with tonight’s soiree, does it not?”   
“It does…” Mark couldn’t think of what else to say. Not when the man in front of him kept direct eye contact with him while he took a sip of his wine. The man kept his smirk but lifted his glass towards Mark, “would you like to try some?”   
“Oh I couldn’t possibly take from your glass,” Mark’s brain was surprised at his sudden formality.   
“I have another,” he pointed to a bottle and empty glass on a table against the wall. The man slowly stood up. The dressing gown barely covered the tops of his legs. Hiding  _ just _ everything.   
Mark held his breath.  _ Don’t think those things! _ Mark commanded himself. The man filled the glass and made his way to Mark.   
“It’s not fresh, I opened it a while ago, but it should taste fine.”   
Now that he was right in front of Mark, the man was just a little taller than him, but incredibly slimmer, and paler. Though their eye colour matched, the stranger’s eyes looked darker and felt deeper, but somehow cold. Mark took the glass, being careful not to have a shaky hand. The man really was astoundingly beautiful. The wine tasted warm, thick, and sweet.    
“Do you like it?” The man never took his eyes off Mark’s, and Mark now couldn’t pull his sight away.  _ Was the man talking about the wine or himself? _   
“Yes…” Mark wasn’t sure which one he was answering either.   
“Do you sing?” the man walked away and sat back in his chair.   
“Only at church." A short snort left the man's mouth.   
“What is your name if I may ask?”  _ Seriously Mark, what is this English? _ _   
_ “Doyoung.”   
“That’s a nice name.”   
“Why thank you. Tell me Mark… If I sing, will you follow?”   
“Of course.”   
Doyoung began with a soft melody and built up to a more powerful tone. Mark repeated the lines back as well as he could. But soon he couldn’t if his own mouth was moving nor if his own voice was making any sound. He was so enticed by Doyoung; his face, his voice, his body. He was stuck between staring at Doyoung’s face, where those eyes were still unmoving, and staring at the hem of the red cloth. It was such a stark contrast to his delicious legs. As they sang through the lines, Mark got closer and closer until he was right in front of the throne. Doyoung finished his final line and stood up. That quiet smirk was still curled on his mouth.   
“Your drink is not finished,” he whispered, “finish it.”   
Mark drew the glass to his mouth and finished it’s contents. He saw the figure of Doyoung slowly walk around the back of him. He flinched when he felt his hand upon his hip.   
“You are very beautiful...” Doyoung whispered.   
“Nothing in comparison to you."   
“I’m flattered… This kind of outfit suits you.”   
“Thank you,”  _ I can’t talk about yours! _ _   
_ Doyoung’s hand came from behind and took the empty glass out of Mark’s hand. Mark stayed where he stood, almost like he understood an spoken command not to move. He heard the glasses  _ ting _ onto the table. Mark felt fingers against his hip again, and others on the small of his back, softly stroking. The hand slowly smoothed up and down his back in soft motions. Mark instantly felt himself relax, closed his eyes and lolled his head back.   
“You smell so good,” a whisper in his hair.   
“Not more than you.”   
“More than me… and you were dishonest about your voice, it is beautiful,” the hand cupped his shoulder and squeezed slightly.   
“Yours is still yet more beautiful,” he heard a small scoff.   
“You use such pretty words too."   
“Pretty words for a pretty face." a deep inhale came from his neck.   
“Your smell is enticing also.”   
“Only for you…” A nose trailed up Mark's exposed neck as it lolled to one side. Mark could feel his spine tingle, his body shivered. He straightened his back in natural reaction.   
“So delicious I could eat you,” the voice whispered directly into his ear. Mark’s breath hitched again. The room fell silent for a moment.   
“Would it please you?”   
“Nothing would please me more.” The hand on his shoulder moved to flatten against his chest firmly.   
“Then do it."   
“Do you give me permission?” there was a nip on his earlobe.   
“I give you permission…” 

The sweet voice began to sing again, more in his head than actually in the room. He felt hot lips against his exposed neck. The heat seemed to form a circle. Getting hotter and hotter. It felt like it was burning but it wasn’t painful. The sensation and the melody played in his head, and he felt his body lose strength, leaning against Doyoung’s chest slightly. The sensation left his neck all too quickly. He felt fingers against his chin, so he opened his eyes as they guided his face. He met Doyoung’s eyes. They now glistened against the candlelight, and his lips were now a deep red. _So beautiful, so irresistible._ So Mark leaned in and pressed his own against. It was a soft kiss. Mark searched Doyoung’s eyes for a sign of rejection. _That smirk again._ Doyoung responded with him own kiss against Mark’s lips. This kiss was harder, longer. As the kiss deepened, Mark regained his strength again and stood straight once more. He turned around to place his hand against Doyoung’s cold cheek and thin waist. He stroked the satin fabric at his waist. His strokes got stronger and turned into harsh squeezes and grabs.   
“Please…” Mark begged between kisses.   
“Please?”   
“Let me.” Mark pulled away from Doyoung, searching his eyes.   
“As you wish,” a whispered response. Mark took a hold of the gold tie that kept the dressing gown together and pulled it. The clothe opened and revealed the rest of Doyoung; chest, thighs, skin, hair, everything. Mark’s jaw was to the ground.  _ How could someone be this beautiful; so flawless, so perfect, so… _ There weren’t enough words to describe what his eyes beheld. Mark took Doyoung’s hand and sat him back on the throne. He opened his legs slightly, to which Doyoung understood right away and assumed the position Mark had found him in when he first came in; one leg hooked on an arm rest. Mark knelt on the cold, stone floor but he couldn’t feel it. His eyes trailed the legs up and down. Slowly, he placed his shaky hands against the legs and smoothed up them. Mark licked his lips once before placing a soft kiss against the hooked knee. He waited for Doyoung to push him away but it never came, so he kissed up his leg. Kisses getting more desperate as he moved up the leg. Soon he had one hand tightly gripping a thigh while his lips and teeth sucked and dug into the top of his other. Mark drew back to see his work. He noticed it wasn’t just hickeys, but also blood smeared all over his leg. Mark felt like he should be alarmed but he felt nothing outside of lust. Doyoung unhooked his leg and curled fingers around Mark’s chin.   
“Is it not enough?”   
Mark couldn’t move. He hoped his desperate flickering eyes would send the message.   
“Let me finish for you,” Doyoung gave one last kiss on his lips before he dived into the cruck of Mark’s neck. This time he felt it. The melody left his brain. He could feel the burning pain, yet it was mixed with an immense shock of pleasure that ran through his body; top to toe, and back again. He wanted to scream in pain, in ecstasy, but no sound came out.   
And then, black.

*

Mark woke up suddenly and sat up. Where was he? Looking around, this was the four poster bed he had seen previously. The door flung open causing Mark to jump.   
“There you are!” exclaimed Chenle as he bound in.   
“Come on, we wanna go home,” Jaemin spoke.    
“Even though there are enough rooms to crash here, it would be rude,” Hyuck answered as he grabbed Mark’s arm and pulled him out of bed, “I can’t believe you had to balls to sleep in the old owner’s room.”   
“What?” Mark stopped where he stood.   
“This was the old owner’s room. I think it’s Jungwoo’s great, great, great grandfather’s room or something, but no one usually comes in here. Apparently it’s haunted,” explained Renjun.   
“But it seems cosy enough,” Jeno looked around the room.   
“What’s wrong with your neck?” Jisung was up close to Mark’s neck.   
“What do you mean?!”   
“It looks like a snake bit you and left two tiny white scars on your neck. Nice halloween touch.”   
“Yeah… thanks…” Mark cleared his throat, “so, who is this person? That lived here?”   
“Well his picture is right there,” Jaemin pointed. Across from the bed was this great painting of said person. _ That painting hadn’t been there before... _ thought Mark. His eyes widened when he saw who it was.   
“He’s beautiful isn’t he?” Jisung twisted his fingers together as he spoke.   
“He certainly is,” Mark was exasperated.   
“How did this family go from looking that gorgeous to  _ Jungwoo _ ,” Hyuck chuckled as he walked out of the room. The rest of the gang followed, but Mark’s eyes flickered to the door next to the painting. It was the one he’d gone down earlier. Thrusting it open, he saw it was a closet with a single red satin dressing down.   
_ We’ll meet again. _ He heard in his head.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by: Imagining Doyoung in a red short satin dressing gown. No shame right here.


End file.
